


The Bow, the Wolf, and the Girl

by hbxplain



Series: More Lives Than One [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), More Lives Than One, Original Work
Genre: Against Genasi, Fantasy Racism, Furia Bullies a Shopkeep, Furia's A Ranger, Furia's POV, Gen, Thievery, Wolves, Written By Storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbxplain/pseuds/hbxplain
Summary: Furia really wants that bow.





	The Bow, the Wolf, and the Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: this is a short story from our dnd campaign, MLTO, which can be found on wattpad on the "stormcause" account.

The figure moved stealthily through the village, eyeing the crowds which moves through the main street, cloak whispering along the gravel ground behind them. They were bent almost double, crouching as they ran, attentive and alert, hand always hovering on one of the daggers they wore at their side. But they never saw the thin blue girl standing stock still in the street behind them, the barest sliver of her face peeking around the corner, watching them as they snuck along. The cloaked figure paused, staying low to the ground, watching the street, and the girl slipped away, moving quickly in the opposite direction. A mysterious figure in a black cloak was never good news, and the last thing she needed was to be wrongly accused of doing something again.

She darted away from the figure, further up the main street before pausing in the shadows, glancing to the left and the right. When she thought no one was looking her way, she swiftly stepped out into the street, keeping her head down and walking at the same pace as everyone else. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her too-big, worn, brown leather jacket, her right hand rubbing two copper coins together. Her eyes flitted to the left and right of the street, her stomach growling with the smells of the food stalls. She might have had enough to buy something, if she tried, but she didn’t stop to approach one. That would draw attention that she didn’t want.

People glanced at her as she passed them, often doing double takes before moving on quickly or stopping and staring at her. Her jacket and long pants might have hid most of her skin, but she couldn’t hide her face, her dark blue hair or her feet, wrapped in old sandals. The weight of the small dagger at her side comforted her a little, but not enough to make her slow her stride. It was practically useless for anything except cutting thin vines or whittling wood. She didn’t want to get into a fight.

She kept up her stride, about to pluck up the courage to walk up and buy some food from the vendors, when a word spoken in Common and a flash of something in the corner of her eye made her pause. Diagonally in front of her, to the right, was a stall selling several weapons; swords and hatchets and whatnot. But what instantly drew her attention and forced her to stop still was the weapon lying on the counter, just to the side, suspended slightly off the bench in its case.

A _bow_.

It was beautifully crafted, simple and unadorned but with a deadly elegance about it, even from this distance. It was strung, perfectly curved back and it was just _sitting_ there. And the shopkeeper was distracted by a customer.

The girl stood completely still, eyes locked on the bow. She hadn’t shot with a proper bow in ages. To walk up and offer her two coppers for it would be laughable. A bow of that quality would cost more than what she’s ever held in her life all together. But she couldn’t just walk away. That left stealing. The very thought of it sent a ripple of guilt through her but she easily shoved it aside. She lowered her head again, striding through the crowds at an angle, not directly approaching the store and staying far enough into the crowd so that she wouldn’t be spotted easily. She watched the counter approach out of the corner of her eye. She was at the edge now. Past the customer. Almost… Now!

She dived to the right, sprinting past the shop, her right land lashing out, easily snagging the bow as she ran beside it and disappearing into the alley beyond. She heard shouts behind her as people gave chase, growing volume as they gained despite how she twisted and turned through the village.

“Stop! Thief!”

The words were familiar ones but she didn’t hesitate in her stride. She ran as fast as she could, darting down alleys and streets at random, trusting her small stature and speed to see her through. She gripped the stolen bow tightly, holding it close to her body to avoid tripping over it just like she had been taught. Heavy footsteps hit the ground behind her; three or four men from the sounds of it, with more joining. It was a game of cat and mouse, but this mouse had a trick up her sleeve. The low wall that surrounded the village was looming up ahead of her. She had come too far west for the gate and didn’t have time to correct her course. Besides, she would be stopped at the gate, her items removed from her before she was thrown out of the village or worse, thrown into jail.

Her eyes rapidly took in the area ahead of her and she slung the stolen bow onto her back, veering her course to head for the house at the end of the street to her left, sitting very close to the wall. She clambered on top of the fence, reaching up and grabbing onto the edge of the roof with her fingers, heaving herself up, her feet scrabbling against the wooden wall to push herself. The slate roof of the house was warm under her hands but she didn’t dare to stand, instead sliding up and down the other side before rising to a crouch. Something split the air just in front of her head and she fell back, her heart racing faster. She glanced back at the street below and saw several men closing in on her quickly, one of them reloading his short bow. She faced forwarded, rising into a crouch again and before she could hesitate, leapt forward.

She barely made it. Her shins clipped the wall as she leapt over it and she hit the ground on the other side, an ‘oof’ escaping her as her shoulder slammed into the dirt. She was up in an instant, sprinting away and ignoring the slight throbbing where her legs had hit the wall. The plain that surrounded the village was full of long grass but she never once tripped, almost reaching the forest nearby as her pursuers reached the village gate. She wasn’t chased as she dove into the trees, quickly leaving the village far behind her.

The forest with its perils of uneven ground, gnarled roots and uncertain light never phased her as she ran through, leaping over dangers and ducking under low-hanging branches. The bow on her back felt clumsy and awkward at first, but she adjusted to the familiar weight quickly. It had been about midafternoon when she had stolen the bow and she slowed her pace as the sun began to set, finding a suitable spot under a tree to shelter. She had a small fire going by the time it was night and sat next to the blaze, her bow resting across her lap, using her dagger to carefully carve a symbol into the wood, a bit above the leather grip. She carved carefully in the light of the fire, not wanting to damage her precious bow or ruin the symbol.

A long, low howl split the air. The girl’s head instantly jerked up, the blue plait that came behind her ear swinging into her face a little. She kept still, listening. Another howl came, closer than the first and then a third. She rose, her dagger in one hand and her bow in the other, stepping closer to the fire as the first of the wolves stepped into the light. The body of the wolf was low to the ground, stalking her, yellow eyes flicking between the blue figure and the smokey fire. The girl sheathed her dagger, bringing her bow up at the wolf as her right hand reached back to her quiver. Only to find nothing.

Right. She didn’t have any arrows. Or a quiver. Her new bow was useless. _And_ there were more howls.

She snatched up a burning branch from the edge of the fire, holding it out in front of her. This wasn’t the first time she had come face to face with wolves, but last time, it had been the middle of the day and they had had a head start on the beasts and had only escaped by scaling high up a tree and leaping from branch to branch. A glance told her that none of the trees around her were good for climbing.

More wolves stalked out of the forest, snarling and moving in a semi circle around her. Although she didn’t like her chances of outrunning the animals, she hated the idea of being surrounded more and she took off, sprinting away with her burning branch held in her hand. The wolves instantly gave chase, yapping to each other. She ran faster, keeping her footing, swinging around her bow and slamming it into the snout of a wolf who just got too close. She could see more running alongside her out of the corner of her eyes, out of her reach, and could hear the panting of the ones behind her.

The fire on her branch flickered, threatening to go out. The ground sloped down, the trees growing more sparse until suddenly, the area in front of her opened up. She registered the lack of cover in an instant before recognising the dark shape a few metres in front of her. She ran for it, the wolves closing in on her, barging through the door and dropping her torch before slamming the door shut, pressing her weight against it as the beasts thrashed on the other side. Her heart was racing fast, her breath getting caught in her lungs, her legs shaking with adrenaline. The wolves stopped beating against the door for a moment and she spun around, throwing the iron bolt home and stepping back with her hands held out as the door shuddered under renewed attacks. But after it held steady for a few minutes, the girl finally relaxed, taking a look around her new shelter.

It was a small, single-roomed hut with no windows and one door which she had locked. It had a tiny bench and a few cupboards that served as a kitchen, a fireplace opposite her and a rickety wooden bed with a thin mattress and a threadbare blanket spread out on it. Her feebly glowing branch that she had thrown onto the floor didn’t give enough light to see anything else. She picked it up carefully, stepping over to the fireplace. Some dry wood was already stacked up next to it and she had a fire going in a few minutes. The sounds of the wolves had lessened and although she still heard the occasional howl, it grew more and more distant as the minutes ticked by.

Now that the house was lit, she could see more details of it; the thin layer of dust that lay over the furniture, a pump that sat in the corner with a bowl underneath it, a chair pushed up against the kitchen bench and a packed bag, sitting up near the door. She picked her bow up from the ground, placing it gently on the bed, then went over to the bag, carefully opening the top. It was packed for hunting, with a tightly wrapped bedroll, a hammer, a few wooden stakes that were too large to be used as tent pegs, a small hand-held mirror, a length of rope, a dry waterskin and a tin of rations which were probably mouldy, judging by the smell. Actually, nothing smelt particularly great. The hut hadn’t been touched for a few months.

The girl closed the bag again, moving it to the base of the bed. She took off her dagger and her leather jacket, placing them both on the bag before rolling into the bed, holding her bow tightly. The flickering light of the fire made strange patterns on the wooden walls and she watched them silently, wrapped up tight in the blanket. The adrenaline rushing through her slowly lessened and she drifted off to sleep, watching the familiar fire patterns, her right hand holding the grip of her bow while her left held the carving.


End file.
